


Everything Hurts and I'm Dying

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8383495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: The reader has killer cramps and bf Spencer makes her feel better. Fluff. :)Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

“FUCK! WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT?!” you screamed out in the middle of apartment, collapsing onto the couch doubled-over in pain.

“Period?” you boyfriend asked, already knowing the answer.

A couple of days out of every month, you felt like you were literally dying. Any man that says men can take more pain than women can suck it. You’d still be going to work while your ovaries were exploding and your chest was pounding in pain. Meanwhile, your brother took off work for two days if he had the sniffles.

“Yessssssss,” you said, crying out like Kuzco from the Emperor’s New Groove.

Spencer walked into the kitchen and grabbed the hot water bottle, placing it underneath the scalding hot water of the faucet. After filling it up, he walked over the couch where you were still currently collapsed with your head in the pillow and sat next to you. You sat up and leaned into him, molding yourself to his frame. He pulled up the hem of your extremely loose t-shirt (you wanted no fabric touching you while you were bloated) and placed the hot water bottle on your stomach. “That should hopefully help,” he said, “just give it a few minutes to soothe the ache.”

“Okay,”you grimaced, closing your eyes as a sharp pain shot up your spine. Literally everything hurt at this time of the month. Stomach. Back. Neck. Chest. Nothing escaped the wrath of Mother Nature. “Can you grab me a cup of coffee? I don’t wanna get up.”

“No,” he said, easing your head off of him and onto the couch to get up, “No coffee for you. Caffeine makes cramps worse. Do you want water instead?”

“Why is everything good in this world bad for me at one point or another? I want cofffeeeeeeee!” You complained, kicking your feet against the couch. “Yea, I’ll take water.”

Laughing at your fake tantrum, he filled up a glass with water and reached into the refrigerator, rummaging around for something you couldn’t see. He returned to the couch with cold water and a few squares of Ghirardelli dark chocolate. “Dark chocolate helps relax your muscles,” he declared, returning your head to its rightful place against his chest.

“Oh, you do love me.”

He ruffled your hair and put his hand over yours, holding the hot water bottle in place. “Yea, I do.”

You were feeling slightly better, but your chest was still so fucking sore. “How’s your stomach?” he asked.

“Stomach’s a bit better,” you mumbled, wanting to fall asleep, “But my boobs are killing me.”

“Well, try and stay away from salt for the next few days. That makes it worse. But in the meantime, do you want me to help?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You just want any excuse to touch my boobs,” you laughed.

“True, but a little massaging might ease the pain,” he said.

Screw it. You’d try anything. You leaned up, lifting your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of shorts and a sports bra. Underwire could suck it until this was over. “Go ahead. Feel ‘em up,” you sniggered.

He sat you up a little more, your head resting in the crook of his neck, so he could massage you in a more comfortable position for the both of you. As he reached one hand around your chest, the other brought both of your hands down to the hot water bottle. “You hold that in place and I’ll work on the boobs,” he mumbled into your neck.

“You know if this does make me feel better, you are going to have to do it every month, right?”

He snorted. “I’ll totally hate that.”

“Yea, you are a boob man.”

As you held the water bottle in place, the soothing heat finally spreading to your pounding uterus, Spencer gently took one breast in each hand, kneading them slowly. His hands had been warmed from the hot water bottle, so your chest was getting the same action as your stomach, except with the added bonus of your boyfriend’s amazingly deft hands.

“Mmmmm....that’s good. Do more of that,” you muttered.

“With pleasure,” he replied, kissing your hair, “A little firmer?”

“Yes please.”

Over and over again, he pushed your breasts together, lightly kneading your nipples in between his fingers while pressing against your skin with the palms of his hands. With two fingers, he began massaging circles into your skin, roaming all over you chest, attempting to relieve the pain coursing through you.

You could actually fall asleep while he was doing this. “Hey, while your around there, you can do my monthly breast cancer self-exam for me,” you laughed.

“As a doctor, you think I’m not doing that every time I touch you? I know every curve of your body. Intimately. I’ll probably notice something before you would,” he said. He probably would, considering you were fairly oblivious - always putting everyone else’s feelings and pains above your own. His fingers began to slow their already leisurely pace. “You ready for dinner? I can make something if you want.”

“Or,” you said, wanting him to keep his hands exactly where they were, “I can call in a pizza for delivery. You can keep doing that and when the delivery guy comes, I can hide behind the couch and not put my shirt back on.”

“You wanna have a naked pizza date?” he laughed hopefully.

“Yessssss,” you drew out happily, “With more chest massages please.”


End file.
